Charge Through Hell
by 13en-writes-all
Summary: When a terrorist attack in India points the finger at Bio-terrorism, the BSAA send in one of their best. Captain Ben Eric Marshall is a mysterious figure that must team up with Secret Service Agent Helena Harper who is still reeling from the death of her sister. While on the mission she confronts her grief, and her growing attraction. Rated M for violence, language, and sistuations
1. Chapter 1

**Part 1 – New Mission**

It started with a terrorist attack in New Delhi, India on March 3rd, 2016 it was thought that the newest incarnation of Neo-Umbrella called _Nivalu_ , or Struggle in Arabic.

One simple explosion sent a shockwave through the city, twenty people dead from the initial explosion, and eighty from the resulting anti- _Nivalu_ riots.

Upon further investigation by BSAA Captain Christopher Redfield, there was an unexploded bomb found on the premise with a container holding a strain of the C-Virus.

Back at the BSAA office in Downtown Manhattan, Chris was giving his report to his boss, James Richardson, former head of the C.I.A. and current Director of the BSAA.

"It seems that there was an explosive set up that didn't explode," Chris said, "Whether or not it wasn't meant to go off or was is beyond me."

"Maybe," Director Richardson said as he leaned back in his chair, "You're sure the bomb belongs to _Nivalu_?"

"It has finger prints of a known _Nivalu_ bomb-maker all over it," Chris said, "I've also tested it for the C-Virus, it was confirmed positive."

"Why aren't any J'avo present?" James asked.

"The C-Virus itself only has a half-life of about three months," Chris said, "The samples we found in the containers are at least four months old."

"Four months," Director Richardson asked, "Why didn't they check?"

"We'll soon figure out," Chris said, "Me and my team were treated before we went into New Delhi so we should be ok. We should be getting the results from the samples we have downstairs in the lab pretty soon."

Director Richardson exhaled, and leaned further back in his seat, "I'll see what we can do," he said, "Who do we have on standby?"

"I'm on standby sir," Chris said, "Why not send me?"

"Sorry Chris," Director Richardson said, "Not this time, probably not again."

"What?" Chris asked.

"You're firing Chris," BSAA Agent Quint Cetcham asked as he looked at James.

"Sir, you can't fire Chris," Keith Lumley said, "He founded this company."

"I know that," Director Richardson exclaimed, "And I'm not firing him, quite the opposite actually," he looked over at Chris, "A few weeks ago, we discussed this at length, and we all agree that your accomplishments to the BSAA have not been fully recognized."

"Really?" Chris asked.

"Yea," Director Richardson said as he slid several papers across the table to Chris, "Effective immediately, you're being promoted to Colonel, and elevated to the position of Deputy Director."

Chris opened the folder, and checked the papers, "Well?" Quint asked.

"It's all here," Chris said, "I've been promoted to Colonel, and given a seat as a Deputy Director."

"Alright," Quint said as both him and Keith stood up, and walked over to Chris who stood up to share the standard BSAA congratulations fist-bump.

"Ok, ok," Director Richardson said, "Congratulations, good work. Here's the deal, your office is located on the Sixteenth floor, right now, why don't you go home, your wife clocked out not one hour ago, and I have a feeling your children are wanting to see their father."

"Ok," Chris said, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"You better," Director Richardson said, "Tomorrow, the real work begins."

"Of course." Chris said.

Chris walked down to the office's car garage, and over to his car, a 2016 Range Rover Evoque.

He bought the Evoque because he was now a father to twins, and needed a car with space and a safe car.

As Chris drove through town, he wondered what Jill would say when he got back, and told her that he had been promoted to Colonel and elevated to the position of Deputy Director.

She'd defiantly be surprised, shocked? Maybe. Angry? Nah.

His apartment was a two bedroom, one bath apartment on the 10th floor of a multi-story apartment complex on Manhattan's Upper West Side.

The carpark was very secure, while both Chris and Jill did have to split the check between both their paychecks, they were happy there, although their kids would need more space as they grew up so they were looking at bigger spaces such as houses or condos upstate or across the river in either Brooklyn or Queens.

When Chris arrived, he took the elevator up to the tenth floor, and walked down to walk down to his apartment, when he opened the door, he saw his wife had just taken dinner out of the oven.

"Hey Chris," Jill said as she pulled the chicken out of the oven, and set it down on top of the oven, "You're home early."

"Daddy," Chris and Jill's son and daughter, Piers and Deborah exclaimed as they ran to their father who knelt down to hug them, and then pick them up to kiss them.

"Ok everybody," Jill said as she walked up to Chris, and gestured for the kids to move aside, "Ok people, move aside: woman of the house coming through."

Jill cupped Chris's jaw in her hands as they leaned close to kiss while the kids turned away.

"Hey," Chris said, "And yes, I am home early," he set his children down, and hugged his wife, "I have big news."

"Let's eat, and talk about it." Jill said.

The family sat down to dinner, and as they were eating, Piers asked, "So what news do you have daddy?"

"I'm no longer a field operative in the BSAA." Chris said.

"You were fired?" Jill asked.

"Nope," Chris said, "They promoted me."

"Chris, that's great," Jill exclaimed, "To Major?"

"Colonel," Chris said, "And given me a seat as a Deputy Director."

"Chris, that's amazing," Jill exclaimed as she walked over, sat in Chris's lap, and hugged him.

"Jill," Chris said, "There are kids here."

"It's ok Chris," Jill said as she tapped her husband on the lips, and hugged him around the neck, "I just want a hug, and maybe a kiss," she then kissed him, causing their children to look away.

Chris often told his children small bedtime stories in order to put them to sleep, when they did, Chris tucked Piers away, and kissed his son on the forehead before leaving with Jill.

The two entered their bedroom, and as they were getting ready for bed, Jill asked, "What'd you find in New Delhi?"

"It seems the C-Virus was meant to be used," Chris said, "It seems however human error is responsible for not releasing the virus."

"I'm sure you'll figure out what to do." Jill said.

"I hope you're right." Chris said.

Meanwhile, Singapore…

A Caucasian male about six foot three, roughly thirty years of age with think brown hair and blue eyes walked through casino of the Marina Bay Sands casino wearing what the rest of the employees wore, shiny black shoes, black pants, a long-sleeve button-up gold shirt, and a metallic brown vest.

He walked up to the bartender, and spoke, "Order in," he said, "The man at the baccarat table wants another gin tonic."

"Real stick up the ass isn't he?" The bartender asked.

"I know," the man said, "Asshole orders four drinks for him and his bodyguard, and doesn't tip shit."

"I haven't seen you around here before," the bartender said, "New guy?"

"Yes," the man said as he held out his hand, "Richard Green."

"Michael Yong." The Bartender said as he shook the man's hand.

The man smiled, the bartender thought that he was smiling for making a new acquaintance, but really, the bartender didn't know that the man had given him a false name, his real name was Ben Eric Marshall.

"You were in the military weren't you?" Ben asked.

"How can you tell?" Michael asked.

"First of all, the haircut, its cut well behind the ears which is only seen on soldiers, spies, or cops," Ben said, "You have a consecutive tan from your wrist down, and the base of the neck up. However beyond the wrist is pale which is more common among soldiers, and I noticed the Rhino on your left wrist which is where former members of the S.A.F. keep their tattoos."

"Impressive," Michael said as he handed Ben the gin tonic, and placed it on the gold tray he would be bringing it over to the table, and the scotch the bodyguard would only drink.

Ben walked back over to the baccarat table, and when he arrived, he passed the drinks to the man and his bodyguard.

What the target and his bodyguard didn't know is that while he had his hand over the drinks, he shook a little powder into the drinks which would make the target seriously drunk, and go back to the his suite so he could sleep off the drugs.

Ben walked back to the bar, and spoke, "Wong, I'm going on break," he said, "Have someone take care of him ok?"

Ben walked away, and walked into the part of the hotel that was not covered by the cameras, he flipped his shirt inside out, changing it into a white formal shirt.

As he walked up to the elevator, he tapped the button that led to his target's floor.

When he stepped out, he walked up to the wall leading to the same hallway as the target's room.

Two minutes later, it was evident his target was there because he heard a very drunk guy singing some kind of garbled song.

The man carrying him down the hall was his bodyguard, the bodyguard pulled out his boss's keycard, inserted it into the lock, and opened it.

What he didn't know was that Ben had snuck up behind him with an extending police baton.

As he swung it at the man's head, it made a simple 'thwack', and the man dropped his boss, but just turned around to face him.

"Ah shit." Ben said.

As the bodyguard ran up to attack, Ben dove underneath the swing, into the room, and as he tried to slam the door, the bodyguard held his hand out, only to have the man slam the door on his hand, breaking his fingers.

He simply grunted, and entered the room.

The bodyguard moved in for another attack, Ben rolled underneath the swing, grabbing the complimentary ceramic bowl off the entry-hall table, and smashed it over the bodyguard's head.

Still nothing, "You are one tough bastard." Ben said.

The bodyguard swung low, nailing Ben in the stomach, as he leaned over, the bodyguard picked him up, and threw him across the table.

Ben stood up as the bodyguard walked up to him holding a stool, "Ah shit." He said.

Ben simply threw his leg back, and nailed the bodyguard in the groin, it seemed to affect him being as he dropped the stool, and fell to his knees holding his 'business'.

Ben picked up the stool, and smashed it over the bodyguard's head, still nothing.

He ran into his target's bedroom with the bodyguard in hot pursuit, and as he slammed the door, a face-impression was made in the door, there was the sound of a body hitting the floor, and everything outside fell silent.

Ben opened the door to see the bodyguard was finally unconscious on the floor, "Really?" He asked.

Ben didn't have time to talk, he turned around to go through his target's items, clothes, books, and toiletries, but what he found in the closet it what he was going for, a small safe which had smudges on the number 3, 5, 1, and 9 keys.

Figuring out a key-code is just as much a form of math as it is remembering the combination on a padlock, every combination is different, but when added up, they all make a specific number, and if the numbers don't form up correctly, then the combination won't work.

I'm afraid I can't get into the math because when it comes to math, I'm about as useful as a broken pencil.

Ben finally had the math figured in his head, and typed in 9, 3, 1, and 5.

The safe buzzed, and clicked unlock, Ben opened the safe, and inside was what he was looking for, a small silver case, as he opened it, he saw inside what he was looking for, a single syringe full of the C-virus, and a vile of the virus.

Ben reached to the back of his shoe, opened the heel, pulled out the counterfeits, replaced them, shut the box, slid them back into safe, shut it, and took the $50,000 in U.S. dollars he intended to give the buyer as a gift, making it seem that the motive was robbery.

Ben walked out of the bedroom, over to the exit to the balcony, and when he arrived, he looked down only to feel that trembling, icy cold thing in his calves.

Heights was his worst fear, it wasn't crippling, but it was serious.

He did what he had to do, and climbed over the edge, and dropped down to the next room where he made a very quiet exit from into the elevator where he hit the _roof_ button.

When he arrived on the roof, a BSAA helicopter was waiting for him.

As he boarded the chopper, and the chopper took off, he looked back as building security rushed onto the roof.

Ben gave security a small wave, and shut the side door to the chopper as it flew away.

As the door shut, Ben turned to face BSAA Oceania Branch agent Sophie Home, "You got the samples," she asked as she held out the case to Ben.

Ben reached down to the soles of his shoes, opened the heels, and removed the samples.

"Right here," he said as he placed the samples in the case, and shut the case.

"Good work," Sophie said, "As always."

On the way back to Manhattan, Ben washed the black dye out of his hair, revealing his white hair, he was only thirty, but the effects of a disease he was born with kept his hair from retaining any pigment, and also the blue contacts he had in his eyes also came out with ease, revealing the light grey, almost white eyes he had.

Arriving back at the BSAA office in Manhattan, Ben was giving his report to Director Richardson, "Upon incapacitating the bodyguard I made my way into the target's bedroom," Ben said, "While searching the room, I found the safe the target was holding the virus, after cracking the combination, I replaced the samples, exited the room over the balcony, and made my way to the roof where Agent Home was waiting in the helicopter."

"Well done Agent," Director Richardson said, "What about the money?"

Ben pulled the money out of his jacket, and placed all $50,000 on the table.

"If that's all sir," Ben said, "I have a 4:00 flight that I don't want to…"

"I'm afraid I can't send you on vacation yet," Director Richardson said, "I know that no one deserves a break more than you, but we have a situation brewing."

"What is it?" Ben asked.

"I believe I can explain that," Chris said as he walked in wearing a grey suit with a white button-up shirt.

"Chris," Ben said as he stood up, and walked over to Chris, and the two embraced, "You look good."

"So do you," Chris said as they pulled apart, "Damn good to see you."

"What's this fucking tie business," Ben asked as he lifted Chris's tie.

"Oh come off the tie," Chris said, "I've been promoted to Colonel anyways."

"No way," Ben said as he gently punched Chris's chest, "Congratulations."

"Come on, sit." Chris said.

"Alright," Ben said as he sat down in front of Chris and Director Richardson, "This is about that bombing in New Delhi isn't it?"

"How'd you know?" Chris asked.

"I think one of my contacts might have had something to do with it." Ben said.

"What are you talking about?" Director Richardson asked.

"Forty eight hours ago, one of my contacts in New Delhi underworld contacted me about a possible bioterror weapon sell happening in the city," Ben said, "So I set him up with a small amount of money for a possible purchase."

"How small?" Director Richardson asked.

"Twenty five million." Ben said.

"Is that U.S. Dollars or Indian Rupees?" Director Richardson asked.

"Dollars," Ben said, "Authorized."

"Keep going." Chris said.

"Before the explosion I received three different communications from him," Ben said, "The first came in thirty minutes before the explosion saying that the seller had identified the weapon as 'something that could change the balance of the world, and had identified the seller as a weapons agent for…"

" _Nivalu_." Chris said.

"Yes," Ben said, "The second communication I got from him was ten minutes before the explosion, he said the seller had been approached by another buyer which he identified as a member of the Red Dragon Triads."

"From the Shang Min Islands?" Chris asked.

"Where else," Ben asked, "The final communication I got from him said that he had won the bidding war, and that he was about to head back to the United States, but that was the last I heard from him. Then the next day, I turn on the TV, and I see that the café the transaction was happening in was a pile of rubble, and my contact was dead."

"So there is a connection between the Triads and _Nivalu_?" Director Richardson asked.

"Yes." Ben said.

"How much did we lose?" Director Richardson asked.

"That's the weird thing," Ben said, "I checked the account to find out that exact figure, and there wasn't anything missing."

"Nothing?" Director Richardson asked.

"Nothing," Ben said, "The money was all there, and not a single penny was missing."

"Interesting," Chris said, "Not one penny was missing yet your contact said he bought the weapon. That makes no sense."

"I know," Ben said, "And with everything going on in the world, I can only assume that the weapon was a biogenic weapon."

"You know what's going to happen next?" Director Richardson asked.

"I assume you're going to send me to Shang Min City," Ben said, "Try and use my contacts to get close to the Dragon Head."

"Yes," Director Richardson said, "And yes."

"There is however one other thing," Chris said as he passed a file across the table to Ben, "We'd like to send someone along."

Ben turned the file over to reveal it was a Secret Service seal on the cover, he opened it to revel Helena Harper's file, "Helena Harper," Ben asked, "The girl involved in Tall Oaks, Lanshiang, and Tatchi?"

"Yes," Chris said, "That a problem?"

"No," Ben said, "I harbor no animosity towards her. I'm just wondering why."

"She's ex-U.S. Army, and ex-C.I.A.," Chris said, "When she was in the Army she was deployed to help the Chinese government with the Shang Min City riots. In the C.I.A. she was instrumental in the fall of Akbar Albas' drug trade in the Middle East. She made friends in both the Middle East and Shang Min City, hence the reason she and Leon managed to escape the U.S. and make it to Lanshiang."

"Indeed," Ben said, "She can tag along," he handed the file back, "But you know that no one has more contacts all over the world than me."

"We know that," Chris said, "But one of her contacts might have something that you don't have."

"I look forward to meeting him then." Ben said.

"One more thing," Director Richardson said, "With the success of your previous mission we've decided to promote you to Captain. This mission is in your hands Captain."

"Thank you Director," Ben said as he stood up, "Colonel," Ben saluted the two, "I'll leave for Washington immediately," and with that, he walked out.

"You really think he can do this Colonel?" Director Richardson asked.

"He's among our best Director," Chris said, "If he can't do it, then god help us."

 _Guess what's about to happen…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2 – Game On**

Washington D.C. …

Ben walked up to the entrance to the Secret Service headquarters, he was wearing a grey suit with a cobalt blue shirt, a grey waistcoat, and a grey tie.

When he walked through the doors, and up to the metal detector he was greeted by security who asked for his I.D.

When he showed his B.S.A.A. I.D., the first thing out of the first agent's mouth was, "Ben Marshal," he asked, "You're _The_ Ben Marshal? As in the White Wolf?"

"The very same," Ben said.

"It's an honor to meet you, sir," the agent said as he shook Ben's hand, "You armed sir?"

Ben reached into his jacket, pulled out his P226 Combat placed it in the tray along with his belt, shoes, his vintage gold 1956 Datejust Rolex, and Glock 30.

His P226 had a standard finish with rosewood grips, a blue-chrome plated trigger, slide-release, hammer, safety, take-down lever, magazine-release, and support plate.

The Glock 30's frame was coated in a thin layer of carbon fiber, the slide release, trigger, and magazine release had been nickel plated, and the slide itself had been engraved with the B.S.A.A. logo.

"You carry two pistols?" The agent asked.

"And this," Ben said as he reached into the other side of his jacket before he placed it into the carrier, and placed a knife holster that contained a blue steel M9 bayonet knife into the tray.

"B.S.A.A.," one of the agents said as Ben made his way through the metal detector without the alarm going off, when his things passed through, he picked up the knife, "You part of the human hunter's division?"

"You can never be too careful," Ben said as he slid his guns and his knife back into his jacket.

Then as he was putting his shoes on, the agent picked up his watch, "A Rolex," he asked, "You steal this one?"

"It was my grandfather's," Ben said as he took the watch from the agent's hand, "He received as a present when he returned from Vietnam."

"Indeed," the agent said, "Have a good day sir."

Ben walked by the agents, and up to the front desk, "Can I help you sir?" the receptionist asked.

"Can you point me toward Helena Harper's office?" Ben asked.

"I'm going to need to see some credentials," the receptionist said, Ben handed the receptionist his I.D., "B.S.A.A., what office?"

"North America," Ben said.

"What rank?" She asked.

"Captain, just recently promoted," Ben said.

The receptionist picked up her phone, and dialed the B.S.A.A.'s New York Office, "Yes this is Rosanne Douglas, receptionist for the Washington D.C. office of the Secret Service," she said, "I have one of your operatives here asking for one of our agents, a Captain Ben Eric Marshall," there was some conversation over the phone, "And how long has he been an operative," some more conversation, "Anything I should know?"

Then someone on the other side of the phone said, "For fuck's sake woman! Just let him through!"

"Ok, ok," she said as she handed Ben's I.D. back, and hung up, "Great receptionists you have there."

"They just don't like being held up," Ben said.

Ben walked through the office building before arriving at Helena Harper's office, as he walked up to the door, he heard laughing from the inside, and when he knocked, someone on the other side of the door said, "Come in."

Ben opened the door to find Helena inside her office with two other agents enjoying the contents of a six-pack.

Helena looked over, and straightened up, "You must be Captain Marshall." She said.

"Marshall," one of the agents asked, "Ben Marshall?"

"Yes," Ben said, "That's me."

"Holy shit man," the other said, "You're a legend!"

"Yes, yes," Ben said, "Your friends?"

"Yes," Helena said as she walked over to shake Ben's hand, when she walked out from behind her desk, Ben saw that she had no shoes on, had a small cut on her big toe, and by the piece of tape put over the cut, it was evident that A: she was wearing heels, B: she wasn't used to wearing that high point of heels, and C: she didn't have any bandages.

Once she shook Ben's hand, Ben could feel she had injured her hand being as she had a very weak grip.

Ben took a seat in front of Helena's desk, "I can see you're enjoying the weekend," he said as he pointed to the six-pack box with two full beers still inside.

"I know it's not very professional," Helena said as she put the bottles on the floor, and tried to put the second bottle away.

"No, please," Ben said, "You don't have to be professional in front of me," he walked up to Helena, and held out his hand, "You know what, how about we get out of this prison cell? Let's get a drink."

"Drinking on the job?" Helena asked.

"It's not drinking on the job if we're off base," Ben said, "Think of it as me being friendly."

Helena took Ben's hand, and stood up, "Can I bring a few friends?" She asked.

"These guys," Ben asked as he pointed over his shoulder at the two other agents, "Why not?"

Ben, Helena, and the two other agents walked out of the office, and up to the car, Ben kept in Washington.

He was a Muscle Car guy, Ben's first car was a 1968 Ford Mustang that originally belonged to his grandfather who had bought it when he got back from Vietnam.

It had stuck with him for years, while the BSAA didn't pay enough to keep him in a new Aston Martin every mission, it still paid for transportation for him, cars, air travel, train travel.

He kept a car in every major city in the U.S. and the U.K. which he could have at any location anywhere in the world within 24 hours.

For Far East Asia (Japan, China, India, the Philippines, and the various other countries) and Australia, he housed a 2016 Chevy Camaro SS painted Garnet Red with two black stripes running the length of the center of the car at a carpark for BSAA employees in Honolulu, Hawaii.

For Central and South America, he kept a 1970 Dodge Charger painted Hemi Orange that he dropped a 5.7-liter Chevy V8 into locked away in the garage of the house his sister lived in to go to the University of Miami in Florida.

For Europe and Russia, he had a 2016 BMW 640i painted Melbourne Red parked in his apartment complex in Manhattan, New York.

For Africa and the Middle East, a 2016 Land Rover Evoque he painted Santorini Black was always waiting for him at the BSAA main office in London, England.

For the U.S. and Canada, he kept it very discrete, but still, fast with a 2016 Ford Focus RS painted Nitrous Blue in Washington, D.C.

As Ben unlocked his Focus, he got into the driver's seat while Helena got into the front, and the two other agents got into the back.

"Nice car man," the first agent said.

"Thanks," Ben said, "Buckle up, the first rule," he then looked over at Helena who was still bothered about her shoes, "I have floor mats you know," he started up the engine.

"What?" Helena asked.

"If those shoes are bothering you, take them off," Ben said as he backed up, threw the car into drive, and drove off.

"How can you tell that my shoes are bothering me?" Helena asked.

"The way you were walking," Ben began, "The cut on your toe means you're not used to wearing that high point on your heels, and the fact you don't have a distinctive line on your foot from wearing those things all day means that you don't wear high heels that much," he made a left, and looked in the rear view mirror at the two agents in the back seat, "You two, there's a small kit in the seat between you, there's a small black pouch inside, hand it to Helena."

The first agent opened the middle compartment in the seat between them, pulled out a small box, opened it, retrieved a small black pouch, and handed it to Helena before putting the box back.

Helena opened the box to find a pair of adjustable black velvet slippers with a leather sole, and a small thing of Band-Aids.

"Why do you have this in your car?" Helena asked.

"It's primarily for my sister," Ben said, "I take this car with me whenever I go to see her. While she was at school in New York, she called me saying her boyfriend had dumped her at the Prom, so I drove down to get her. When I got there, the high-heels she was wearing a hat made about three cuts in her feet, and she had to go without the heels back to the apartment, she slipped and gave herself a bloody nose. So it's always been a precaution that when she's in the car, I have one of these with me."

"Interesting," Helena said as she took off her heels, bandaged her cut toe, and slid on the slippers.

Ben pulled up in front of the bar and turned off the engine.

As they entered, Ben ushered the two agents to a booth in the back.

"We'll get the drinks." He said.

As Ben and Helena approached the bar, Helena spoke up, "So why does the famous White Wolf want with me?" she asked.

"Your expertise," Ben said, "I'm sure you've heard of the attack in India," as they arrived at the bar, Ben looked at the bartender, "The lady will have a 357 Magnum."

"That's right," Helena said, then pointed at the two agents at the booth, "The one on the right will have a Falix, and the other will have a Baltimore Zoo."

"Ok," the bartender said, then turned to Ben, "And you sir?"

"He'll have a Black Ferrari," Helena said.

"Impressive," Ben said.

"Thank you," Helena said, "So why exactly are you here?"

"One of my contacts was killed in it," Ben said as the bartender started mixing the drinks.

"I heard about your connections," Helena said, "I'm didn't think they existed," as the bartender placed the drinks on a tray, Ben picked them up.

"They're all too real," Ben said, "And so are your connections."

"My connections," Helena said as they sat down at their table.

"You know what I mean," Ben said, "We need your help, Helena."

"What's so important about this one mission," Helena asked, "I'm sure you could handle it."

"We think there's a connection between the Red Dragon Triads and a bio-terrorist organization known as _Nivalu_ ," Ben said.

"The newest incarnation of Neo-Umbrella," Helena said, "What was your contact trying to buy?"

"We don't know exactly," Ben said, "We just assume it's a B.O.W. because my contact said the buyer told him it was, 'something that could change the balance of power in the world'."

Helena looked at Ben, "I can see why they went to you," she said, "You think my connections would come in handy in tracking down said connection, and in ergo, said weapon."

"Exactly," Ben said as he held out his hand, "What do you say? Partners?"

Helena grabbed Ben's hand, and shook it, "Partners." She said.

Back at the Secret Service office…

Helena looked up from her phone to speak, "That's my contact," she said, "He'll give us the information for half a million."

"Tell him three hundred thousand," Ben said.

" _Rú hé yuē 30 wàn_ ," Helena asked, there was more conversation over the phone, "He says four hundred and fifty."

"Three hundred and fifty," Ben said.

" _Rú hé yuē sān bǎi wǔ shí thousnad_ ," Helena asked, there was more conversation, "Four hundred."

"Very well," Ben said, "But he better have that information the second we arrive."

" _Zuò_ ," Helena said, " _Nǐ zuì hǎo bǎ zhè xiē xìn xī_ ," Helena hung the phone up, "What about our flight?"

"Taken care of," Ben said as he put away his phone, "I've booked us on a flight that leaves in three hours."

 _That's the end of that…_

Translate:

Rú hé yuē 30 wàn – How about three hundred thousand?

Rú hé yuē sān bǎi wǔ shí thousnad – How about three hundred and fifty thousand?

Zuò – Done

Nǐ zuì hǎo bǎ zhè xiē xìn xī – You better have that information


End file.
